


a lullaby for suffering

by accrues, Erya



Series: You Want it Darker [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blowjobs, Bondage, Daddy Issues, Dom!Malcolm, Drunk Sex, Episode Tag s01e16 - The Job, FBI Certified for Bad Ideas, Jessica Whitley's A+ Parenting, M/M, Martin Whitley's A+ Parenting, PWP, Sub!Vijay, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accrues/pseuds/accrues, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erya/pseuds/Erya
Summary: The school had put on a small firecracker display, far away from their teenaged fingers. They’d watched from their dormitory balcony as the lights flashed in the sky, and Malcolm had remembered the way the police lights had illuminated the white hallways of his childhood home the night he’d saved Gil’s life. He’d trembled a little, his hands shaking, and Vijay had taken one to hold.Malcolm and Vijay had loved each other at school. Maybe it wasn't just a fleeting boarding school moment.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara
Series: You Want it Darker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696771
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	a lullaby for suffering

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't enough Vijay fic here so- here we go. He calls Malcolm 'Baby Boy' and we're NOT supposed to ship them? 
> 
> This is canon divergent in regards to Malcolm's romantic relationships during/after Episode 16 - The Job, no cheating is involved.
> 
> Warnings for canon-typical character approaches to mental health. We both strongly encourage readers to look for good mental health help if they feel they are struggling. Warnings also for under-negotiated kink. COMMUNICATION IS KEY.

_there’s a lullaby for suffering_  
_and a paradox to blame_  
You Want it Darker - Leonard Cohen

There’s something spine-tinglingly unfamiliar about Malcolm’s apartment when he steps up the final step and past Sunshine, Vijay on his heels. Now, the slate-slab grey looks less ‘opulently expensive’ and more like a prison, the smells of cleaning supplies applied by his maid stimulates a wave of hospital unpleasantness. The soft dust from Sunshine’s daytime grooming doesn’t even penetrate across the space.

He’s suddenly nervous - why? It’s true that Vijay is the only friend from outside the close cluster of mom-Ainsley-Gil to visit the apartment, the only person he’s known to press red-hot like a brand against him only to fade away, time a healing tincture. He’s suddenly palm-sweat nervous thinking how his life must appear from the eyes of someone who knew him at his most vulnerable time. He’s a little drunk but they both are, from hours spent at high-end bars swapping stories about shitty dads - Vijay’s is back in jail and Malcolm’s never left. Why should he care what Vijay thinks now of his living space? They hadn’t talked in literally a decade. 

He won’t let himself falter, keeps walking toward the equally grey fully stocked kitchen to retrieve another few beers. Keep a level of intoxication growing between him and Vijay and maybe there won’t be any comments about the way he’s still stone cold-hearted, untrusting, raw inside just under the tender top layer of skin. 

‘Huh,’ Vijay says. He’s come to a stop a few feet before the kitchen counter, Malcolm can feel the distance in the panes of his back. He’d realised that ability very young. Unlike the other children, he’d been carefully aware of the apex predators around him, tracking their movements and responding in kind as necessary. Even if that means going for a low blow.

Even if it means calling the police on your serial killer father.

The word still makes him flinch. _‘Huh’_.

‘Hm?’ his heart is jackrabbit fast even as his actions are incredibly particular without being slow. He’s done this for years too, a cultivated skill to not show just how chaotically his autonomic system is reacting. Wouldn’t do to act too crazy around normal people.

‘Guess this fits what I expected. It’s… different from your parent’s house.’

That makes something inside Malcolm loosen a little. It’s true, his mom had hated this apartment when he first bought it, making comments about the decor being little better than that at Claremont. Not that she would have known.

Vijay is moving around, and Malcolm roots about a little longer in the refrigerator.

‘Who’s this little guy?’ 

Malcolm finally allows himself to straighten and spin from the safety of his refrigerator, beers in hand. Vijay is back by Sunshine’s cage, pulling a stupid babying face as she hops toward him warily. It makes him laugh, he can’t help himself, and the tightness releases a little more. It’s like Vijay is treading through a minefield Malcolm set for him, deftly dodging every explosive like he knows just where to step.

‘That’s Sunshine,’ Malcolm lets the corner of his lips rise up a little. ‘Beer?’

‘Oh yeah, you got the good stuff?’

‘Small batch microbrew - direct import from Chicago.’ Malcolm pauses for a second, a little embarrassed, while he pops the bottle caps. ‘Ainsley likes it,’ he adds, detached.

‘Cool.’ Vijay hasn’t taken his eyes off Sunshine, instead watching the budgie shuffle all the way over to him. She takes a few moments to consider him, head cocked so that her left eye can get a good look at him, then lifts her wing and furiously grooms at herself.

Malcolm grabs the pack of seed mix he keeps in a kitchen drawer and threads the sweating necks of the beer bottles between the fingers of his right hand. He steps closer to Vijay and the little budgie cage. ‘You mind if I let her out?’

Vijay’s mouth lifts up with that ridiculous free-spirited smile. ‘Will she land on me?’

‘Maybe,’ Malcolm hands over the bottles. ‘Hold these.’ One handed he opens the cage door and then pours a little portion of seed into his palm. Sunshine issues Vijay a suspicious look, but she hops toward the entrance, and then suddenly hops into Malcolm’s hand in a flurry of green-gold feathers.

Once she’s established that Vijay isn’t coming any closer, she lowers her little head and takes a seed in her beak. Her little clawed foot comes up to grip the kernel, as her deft beak zips it open, eats the meat inside and drops the shell.

‘Cool,’ Vijay is watching with a smile, one of the beers halfway to his mouth and the other dangling loose from the fingers of his other hand. Malcolm very slowly drops the box of seed, straightens up to watch her take another seed to strip.

‘Here,’ Malcolm holds out his hand- unsurprisingly Sunshine trots further up his arm as the tangent of space between him and Vijay reduces. Vijay considers the seed and lifts his own offering, passing the unstarted bottle of beer into Malcolm’s free hand. 

‘Thanks.’

Even with the food so suddenly transferred, Sunshine is still clinging to Malcolm’s arm, a stalwart support with the suspicion of a true friend. 

‘It’s okay,’ Malcolm coaches. ‘He’s been vetted.’ Sunshine cocks her head at him like she begs to differ, but she slowly makes her way down his arm, eyes searching for the prize of sunflower seeds and oyster grit in Vijay’s hand. 

‘She’s pretty,’ Vijay comments absently, holding his hand outstretched and steady so as not to make Sunshine flinch. _I know you’re scared_, his eyes say. _I won’t move._ Malcolm hurts.

In an act of self preservation he ducks to the side, leaving his arm steady to not jostle the little budgie. Music - he just needs to get to the stereo’s remote. His mom had wanted him to sync his house up with a smart assistant but he’d managed to win that argument. The last thing he needed was Alexa feeding the world (or god forbid, his _mother_) god-knows-what information about him. 

He presses the play button for the stereo and the moment the surround-sound speakers activate, Sunshine’s wings blur as she takes flight to land on Vijay’s ever-steady hand. Vijay’s face lights up _again_, like the wattage of his smile has a dimmer, to glow ever brighter until the lumens are blinding. The song choice leaves something to be desired, Malcolm had been feeling morose when he last activated the stereo, and a downbeat version of Happy Together - a bastardisation if he’d ever heard one - had been playing. He hastily hits the skip button, and the music shuffles to the droning strains of Tom Waits’ Alice. It’d do.

Maybe Vijay never even noticed. He’s swaying now, to the saxophone and piano, the gentle purr of Tom Waits’ voice, while all his attention focuses on Sunshine. As Malcolm steps closer, Sunshine eyes him, appraises him for food, and swaps her position, flapping up to perch on Vijay’s shoulder instead.

‘Oh, I see how it is,’ Malcolm laughs. Vijay looks delighted, like this little bird’s approval is all that he needs, despite the expensive suits and beer, cars, watches- just a little budgie, perching on his shoulder and brushing the downy-soft feathers of her tiny head against the five-o'clock-shadow on his neck. 

‘Hey,’ Vijay says. ‘Always did have it better with the ladies.’

‘True,’ Malcolm allows, ducking behind his bottle of beer. The smell is as rich as the taste, hops and carbonation tingling even before he wraps his lips around the edge. He takes a pull, and swallows.

‘There was- what was her name? Jacinta? From the day school down the road. Climbing in the dorm window and kissing in the gym changing rooms.’

‘Yeah, and I thought I got her pregnant.’

Malcolm allows the gust of laughter to burst from him. ‘You hadn’t even gone near second base yet, but you panicked so hard you almost got busted for having a girl on campus.’

Vijay grins and shakes his head, watching Sunshine dance away from the movement with a reproving chirp. 

‘Hey, you wanna...’ Malcolm gestures toward the kitchen. ‘I can make something up-’ 

Just as he says it, he sees Sunshine close her eyes for one instant, and a small white and brown smudge falls from her tail.

‘Oh Sunshine, no!’ He rushes toward Vijay, startling Sunshine so much that she automatically hops onto Malcolm’s shoulder where she knows she’s safe. ‘Vijay, I’m sorry, she doesn’t usually-’

Vijay looks puzzled, then turns his gaze to where Malcolm can’t stop staring - there's a bird dropping on his probably extremely expensive italian weave bespoke shirt. ‘Oh shit!’

Malcolm doesn’t know what to do with his hands now that the problem has been identified. Vijay, on the other hand, seems to have it all under control as he systematically unbuttons the shirt. Heart pounding unexpectedly, Malcolm turns back to the birdcage, gently dropping his beer bottle on the floor to leave both hands free and gently transferring Sunshine from his shoulder to her perch. By the time he has the cage door shut, Vijay is fully shirtless. It’s a sight, he definitely does something to work out, probably an exclusive version of Cross-Fit.

It’s a bit distracting and Malcolm is forcefully reminded that staring is probably a very bad idea. Luckily, he’s great at bad ideas. 

‘Here,’ Malcolm reaches to take the shirt. ‘If it sticks, I’ve got a bunch of stuff that gets anything out.’ Luckily, it comes off easily under the faucet at his kitchen sink - he doesn't need to explain why he has myriad different types of cleaning agent for getting a variety of bodily fluids out of expensive clothing.

When he’s done rinsing out the shirt he finally looks up, fingers attempting to push extra moisture out of the patch without wringing at the fabric. Vijay has an eyebrow raised. ‘What’s the damage?’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Malcolm sighs. ‘I’ll get you a spare shirt. It’ll be too tight but…’ he shrugs. He has an oversized Quantico tee that he sometimes pulls out when his nightsweats require a middle-of-the-night change. Nothing quite like lying back in a wet patch when your restraints only allow for one position.

He heads for his bedroom, glad for the bit of space as he covers the distance only to notice Vijay shadowing him. Malcolm is so focused on Vijay at his back and his own pursuit of covering up that six-pack with its dark treasure trail accents, that he completely forgets that closer inspection of his bedroom has on occasion caused his guests some degree of discomfort.

‘Are those… handcuffs? Kinky handcuffs?’

Vijay has his eyes fixed on the chains hanging from the restraint points on Malcolm’s bed, the soft leather cuffs sitting innocuously on the bedside cupboards either side. But Malcolm can’t help but notice the other reactions Vijay is telegraphing. His pupils have dilated somewhat, and there’s an intensity to him that looks a lot like arousal. But it can’t be about Malcolm, and even if it was, he doesn’t-

‘I don’t-’ he stutters. Vijay’s gaze swings back to him. ‘It’s not- I don’t like being tied down.’ He states. ‘For sex, I mean. I-’ he hurries to the bed, unclipping one cuff and stuffing it in a drawer before leaning across and hiding the other. ‘They’re for sleeping. I get night terrors, and I sleepwalk. It’s a bad combination, but you know how it goes when your father is a serial killer who actively murdered his way through your childhood-’ he’s rambling, he knows, but he can’t help himself.

‘Oh,’ Vijay says, still staring at the bed. ‘I- that’s good.’ He blinks. ‘Not the stuff about your dad, that’s fucked up man, but I-’ he swallows, ‘I’m more the one that likes… y’know.’ He nods his head toward the empty space where the cuffs were. ‘To be tied up.’

Malcolm’s mouth _drops_. He’s a profiler. He profiles people. He’s profiled Vijay in the last _week_, only for that to end up with bruised ribs and a road-run gang member. How did his profile not pick up a penchant for sado-masochism and submission?

_Maybe you weren’t looking for it_, his mind supplies, in a voice that sounds annoyingly like his father’s. _Because you were looking the other way_.

Vijay slowly turns his gaze on Malcolm. His eyes are still blown wide. He’s shirtless, and the bulge at his fly is evident. Eyes locked on Malcolm, he licks his lips, and takes a step forward. 

Well. Bad ideas _are_ what he’s great at. FBI certified for bad ideas.

Malcolm swallows, very aware of his bed mere feet away. He belatedly becomes aware of the shirt in his hands, the old cotton already going damp. He breaks eye contact, feels the heat of Vijay’s gaze on his skin, warming. 

In his stomach, a thousand Sunshines tremble, the things with feathers warring with the memory and inevitability of betrayal. This is _such_ a bad idea, but the chain analysis the back of his brain is performing, is always performing, flares mockingly with the voice of his father, pointing out that this? Really shouldn’t have been a surprise, Malcolm. 

Now that he’s let the first trickle through, a thousand cues, missed deliberately or unconsciously, flick through his mind like a kaleidoscope of sensation and discordant colour, dizzying and giddy. 

Vijay, his eyes smiling at him from across the bar they’d started at, the flash of his teeth, the warmth of his broad palms on Malcolm’s thin shirt. The way they had lingered. Oh.

The crash of his vintage Porsche and Vijay, his jubilation bright like the sun, oh, the way he had hovered in the fallout until the EMT and weight of Gill’s eyes had chased him out. The two of them, high on exhilaration, the heady, shakey, delicate _relief_ as something inside that was _broken_ suddenly realigned, like a thing out of place, like a bone, a dislocated longed-for limb now coming back, coming home. Oh - and 

Their childhood. 

The kaleidoscope stops and Malcolm - comes back, comes back to the clammy wet of the FBI shirt, to his bedroom, chains behind him designed to keep him in, to keep him safe and Vijay across the room, strange and too tall, too happy, incongruent.

Malcolm looks up, the flutters easing giving way to heavy, familiar weight. Almost comforting. 

He swallows and glances up, nearly-but-not-quite making eye contact. ‘Hey, um, look-’

‘Whitley. Remember that Fourth of July? Your mom was in Ibiza, and mine went back to India over the holiday? We were stuck at school and miserable. You said you wanted to see your dad…’

Malcolm does remember, remembers the quiet dormitories and all the maps and plans he’d made to somehow make his way into the city, to see Martin and ask him why everyone had abandoned him. The school had put on a small firecracker display, far away from their teenaged fingers. They’d watched from their dormitory balcony as the lights flashed in the sky, and Malcolm had remembered the way the police lights had illuminated the white hallways of his childhood home the night he’d saved Gil’s life. He’d trembled a little, his hands shaking, and Vijay had taken one to hold. 

He’d held Malcolm’s hand and leaned in close, breath a whisper on the skin of Malcolm’s neck. They’d touched, unseeing, hands carefully navigating the now suddenly unfamiliar landscape of each other’s bodies. It had been a lot, a shared first experience of giving another person pleasure even if the whole thing had been more fleeting than the low-budget fireworks display.

Malcolm hadn’t touched a man since, hadn’t really even wanted to. Boys did things like that at boarding school, going through puberty without any girls around. They’d been lonely, left unwanted at the school over summer vacation, angry with their moms for leaving and their dads for being selfish. He’d considered dating men occasionally, but even all his sex dreams and masturbatory fantasies had been about women. He definitely doesn’t consider himself to be gay, or even very far along the Kinsey scale away from completely straight. The few women he’s paid to dominate had definitely been sufficient for his needs.

But Vijay… there's something about Vijay that just keeps throwing him off his stride. 

‘Thats…’ Malcolm turns his eyes to finally meet Vijay’s. He’s looking back directly, face stoic. ‘Is that something you do?’

Vijay considers him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean… messing around with men. Getting tied up. Is that something you do?’

Vijay shrugs. ‘Lifestyles of the rich and famous, man. Sometimes, sure.’

‘But you want to,’ Malcolm clarifies. ‘With me?’

Vijay’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. ‘Yes,’ he finally says, clear as a bell. ‘Yeah, Malcolm, I want to.’

Malcolm drops all the pretenses because suddenly everything is washing over him, crowding out the other stimuli that normally assails his senses, and he’s stepping forward to collide with Vijay, tilting up his head so that he can meet Vijay’s lips. 

Vijay walks him backwards, and he goes willingly, pliantly, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. It makes him start a little, aware that he was _un_aware, lost in the moment to the point where he wasn’t even tracking their steps. ‘Vijay,’ he pants against the other man’s jaw. ‘Get on the bed.’

From where Vijay is pressed against him, he can feel the jump that elicits from Vijay’s trousers, the way his own erection fills out further. Vijay complies, quickly and easily, pushing past Malcom to sprawl out on the bed. His eyes are as effulgent as Malcolm’s pseudonym in the bedroom’s low light.

‘Safeword?’ Malcolm asks, already reaching forward to pull cuffs out of the right-hand side cupboard. 

‘Ontario,’ Vijay says instantly, so sure- he’s done this before. That’s enough for Malcolm. He’s no professional, but this isn’t exactly a long drawn out scene. More like fluffy handcuffs used to spice up the marriage bed. The cuffs clip on quickly, and Malcolm attaches them with Vijay’s eyes tracking each movement, clear in how they would easily come undone should Vijay want to end the encounter. Then they wrap around Vijay’s wrists, fastening a little awkwardly, a few holes longer than they’ve sat for years, tight around Malcolms wrists each night. It’s startling personal, the application of these nightly bracelets of comfort. A small price to pay for relative peace of mind.

‘Whitley,’ Vijay whispers, and Malcolm looks at him sharply, hand wrapped around the leather.

‘No,’ Malcolm says, suddenly overcome with the power to determine his own image. ‘I don’t use that name anymore. Call me-’

‘Sir,’ Vijay interrupts, and Malcolm smiles.

‘I was going to suggest ‘Malcolm’, but that works too.’

Buckling the second bracelet means he ends up straddled over Vijay’s stomach. He’s still fully clothed, he’s still wearing his _shoes_ for god’s sake. Beneath him, Vijay is hard in his slacks, but at least he’s shirtless, face roughed up a little following Malcolm’s attentions. As soon as both bracelets are fastened, he sits back onto his haunches, onto the erection beneath him. He gazes at Vijay, eyes blown completely, chest moving up and down with aroused pants. The dark hair on Vijay’s chest is a soft contrast against his skin, the muscles of his torso soft despite the strength Malcolm knows lies beneath. 

It’s so much that he just has to kiss him again, pinning Vijay’s upper arms under his hands and holding him down as he kisses his lips and nips along his jaw. Vijay’s mouth searches for his, and they exchange languid kisses for a moment, Vijay surrendering and pliant beneath Malcolm.

It’s a lot. Too much, almost, Malcolm’s so pent up, heady with the shocking discovery that he can just take what he wants. He has to back off a little or he’s going to just want to hump down on Vijay’s leg until he comes in his own pants.

He swings his leg around to find his feet again, and swiftly walks down to the end of the bed. Vijay is wearing rich brown italian loafers with neat broguing on the toe, and under them, black silk socks with jewel tone toes. 

‘Sir.’ Vijay is trying to help, kicking his foot against the bed like he’s trying to remove his shoes, and Malcolm just watches him wiggle ineffectively for a moment before going in to help.

Both garments hit the floor, and suddenly Vijay looks somewhat less monolithic, barefoot and spread-eagle on Malcolm’s bed. The slacks are next, black and practically bursting at the seams from the pressure. Malcolm kneels over Vijay’s knees, hair falling over his eyes as he deftly undoes the button and zip, hand palming against the heat he finds in Vijay’s underwear and earning himself a grunt. He moves his head sharply so that he can look directly into Vijay’s eyes, and very purposefully squeezes Vijay’s cock again.

When he tugs, Vijay very obediently lifts his hips and allows the trousers to come away from his ass. Malcolm doesn’t need them all the way off, just lets them ruck around Vijay’s knees like a secondary restraint keeping them tangled. Then his eyes land directly on the prize, and his hands are suddenly desperate to bring it out.

‘Don’t move,’ he orders, and Vijay stills, the last furtive movements aborted, and Malcolm reaches to pull Vijay’s cock and balls out of the boxer-briefs, settling them atop the stretched-out fabric. Vijay looks debauched, trousers around his knees and dick stark against his underwear. It’s delightful.

‘Aren’t,’ Vijay’s eyes are tracking him like he’s the only thing on earth. ‘Aren’t you going to take your-’ he nods at Malcolm, like the words are too far from his lips and gestures are all he can rely upon. 

Malcolm just sits, watches. ‘Use your words.’

‘Clothes,’ Vijay clarifies. ‘Aren’t you going to get naked?’

‘Hmm,’ Malcolm says, calmly. ‘You know I’m not the most trusting person. I think I’ll leave them on, for now. You never know who could come barging in.’

That makes Vijay’s cock twitch too, and Malcolm smiles slyly. ‘You like that? Makes sense - flashy suits, vintage car - you’re a peacock. Let me guess,’ he leans forwards so that he can feel Vijay’s breath on his face. ‘Unresolved Daddy issues?’

Vijay growls a little, irritated. ‘Pot, kettle.’

‘Sure,’ Malcolm smiles, and rests back on his haunches. ‘Fine, if you insist, I’ll take my shoes off.’ He reaches behind himself, tugs his own loafers off and lets them fall untidily to the floor. ‘Happy?’

‘Hardly,’ Vijay replies, but he doesn’t look all that put out.

Through it all, Vijay has barely moved a muscle, has been so good that Malcolm just has to reward him. He leans forward again but this time his hands come to rest on either side of Vijay’s hips and he rocks down so that he can breathe against the skin of Vijay’s dick. An aborted movement makes him smile, and he breathes out again, slowly, lips just close enough that he’s almost touching the skin.

‘Fuck,’ Vijay grunts. ‘C’mon Whitley-’

Malcolm snaps backward, pulls away. Actually gets to his feet and walks to the cabinet to Vijay’s left. The sudden absence makes Vijay pull against the restraints, to mutter ‘Fuck, sir. Bright. Malcolm. Sorry.’

‘Hmm,’ Malcolm says dismissively, digging through the drawer. He found what he was looking for immediately, but Vijay is watching him, and he’s enjoying drawing this out. After a sufficient amount of time he pulls the condoms and lube out. The lube goes on top of the cabinet, and he rips open the pack of Trojans. 

He’s good with his tongue. He’s never done this before, but he’s eaten out enough women to know that he’s dexterous. He’s not so cocky that he doesn’t settle the condom on Vijay’s dick first, but after that, his mouth follows, carefully rolling the condom down his length, stopping momentarily when the band doesn’t cascade properly. 

‘Fuck,’ Vijay pants, bucking just the tiniest bit, and Malcolm smiles around the dick in his mouth. He only manages two inches at best before he has to pull back and use his hand the rest of the way, but it was enough to get Vijay riled up further. 

‘I said,’ Malcolm says calmly. ‘Stay still.’

With single focus, he eyes the wrapped dick now slapped up against Vijay’s abdomen, the balls nestled beneath it. One hand goes up to touch at Vijay’s balls- he’s no expert but he’s worked his own dick enough to know - and his mouth comes down to lick at Vijay’s dick. 

‘Ff,’ Vijay hisses, and Malcolm takes more into his mouth, suckling experimentally, swirling his tongue. He tries a few of the techniques he uses with women, and is surprised when they provide him with interesting results. He rolls Vijay’s balls in his hand, feels it when Vijay gets more and more worked up.

The chains jangle a little as Vijay shifts, pulling a little against the restraints. 

Malcolm doesn’t want to end things here, so he brings his hand away from Vijay’s balls, settles into just sucking for a moment, then withdraws his mouth, too.

Vijay just groans- Malcolm shuffles up the bed further, pins Vijay’s cock against his stomach as he progresses and then passes, continues to knee-walk until his knees fit against the hollows of Vijay’s armpits. Vijay’s neck is craned up, eyes fixed on Malcolm’s crotch, and Malcolm smiles down at him as a god smiles down on his creations.

‘I’ll let you,’ Malcolm permits graciously. He reaches down to his fly, tugs his own erection past the opening. He reaches over, snags another condom and tears it open. ‘I’ll even wrap it up nicely for you.’

Vijay swallows, then looks up at Malcolm’s eyes again. Vijay wants to make eye contact constantly, something that has never been Malcolm’s favourite thing. He keeps focus, pulling out the condom and expertly rolling it down his dick. 

It takes a bit of positioning, but he finds the right angle that he doesn’t think will hurt Vijay’s neck too badly, that would allow Vijay to take him into his mouth without choking. He feeds it in slowly but Vijay isn’t hesitant, has obviously done this before, maybe even in this exact position. It’s a thrill, Malcolm wants to lose himself in it the way he doesn’t usually, not even in sex.

Vijay suckles, draws Malcolm in further. Malcolm settles one hand below his balls to manipulate them the way he likes to during solo sessions, and closes his eyes to enjoy the warmth and expertise of Vijay’s mouth. Even as his eyes close he wants to open them and look at Vijay taking his dick. He wants the blackness of his own eyelids and the view spread out before him at the same time, so he just groans and rotates between the two. Vijay’s lips are _obscene_, stretched around him and so goddamn red. Those dark eyes that had followed Malcolm through school, even when they had no longer been on speaking terms. 

Goddamn, he’d had sex with Eve, it had been very polite, nice even, but it had not been this. He hadn’t even known he’d _wanted_ this.

It doesn’t take much to make him come, and besides, Vijay is _very_ good with his mouth. He’s rocking with the need for contact as he comes, and then suddenly it’s too much. He has to pull back, almost on the edge of panic from the loss of control, panting with the sudden wash of fear. Of course his constant shadow of trauma ruins even the best of orgasms.

Vijay is still rocking under him, desperate for touch, so he pushes down the anxiety and focuses in on the body beneath him. He strips the condom off, tying it neatly before placing it carefully on the nightstand. Then he moves down a little so that it’s more comfortable to kiss Vijay’s lips, to keep moving down kissing at his jaw, his throat, the hollow between his collarbones. His fingertips skate along the skin of Vijay’s chest, trailing swirls down Vijay’s taut abs. He prowls backwards until his mouth is back at Vijay’s cock, and then it’s back in his mouth. His fingers roll Vijay’s balls, his mouth tonguing along the pronounced vein again and again, and then Vijay is coming with a shout, his hands pulling hard against the restraints.

Even as he comes down, Malcolm keeps tonguing at the cockhead in his mouth, a little too much probably, but high on the power of it all. He startles, suddenly, when Vijay moves forward, bending at the waist so that he’s sitting up. Malcolm withdraws, only noticing as he does so that Vijay flicked open the clips connecting the cuffs to their tethers. 

It’s good, he reminds himself, even though something inside him growls that Vijay should have asked permission, should have been tied down more securely- he’s Malcolms, to do with as wished. But there was no such agreement, and Malcolm doesn’t want that kind of power anyway, has pushed it away ever since the faint carnal desire for it first reared its ugly head. He’s not his father, isn’t anywhere near his father, and he isn’t his mother either, with her constant need to manipulate everyone around her.

‘Fuck,’ Vijay breathes. ‘God, Whitley, I never thought you’d actually-’

Malcolm’s head has snapped up again, and now he’s staring Vijay directly in the eyes. ‘Bright,’ he says calmly. ‘My name is Malcolm Bright.’

**Author's Note:**

> Series left open because there's more in mind, but no guarantees.


End file.
